I never really forgot this

This is the fourth or fifth time today I've tried to write this post. I want to get it out but I feel paralysed by the horror and shame of it. This little rabbit is frozen in headlights.

Strange how we hide things from ourselves. When memories come back, they're never surprising. It's like I never really forgot them, I just put them away out of sight. I've talked about how I'm tormented by missing memories, but I know what I've forgotten and I think I've always known. This has always been my narrative. I just hoped and wished it wasn't true.


***Trigger warning - rape, incest***





I once told a doctor I had been raped at age 15. Looking back, I couldn't remember why I said it. I thought I must have made it up.

In the last few days, I've remembered something. There are days when I was at home and my father was there too. I blanked them out. And I forgot about these particular gaps in my memory. I forgot I'd lost them.

Now it seems insane that I forgot. Forgot those times when I was in my bed and he was there and something bad was happening. I don't know why I didn't stop it. Perhaps because I made myself not know, or because trauma makes me freeze. I tried to tell my mum so many times in so many ways, but she chose not to see, not to know.

How old was I? 15, like it says in my medical records. 15, the age when I said I had been raped, then I couldn't remember why I said it.

I have noticed so many other things in the past few days, things I've known all along but I pushed them away, out of sight, tried to make them not true. I'm so detached, so dissociated. Interim-T said I seemed to have a history of trauma (as I kept dissociating in her office) and I laughed. I told her I was confused, as it clearly wasn't funny, but I kept laughing.

Earlier today, I felt water dripping down my face and realised my eyes were leaking but I just felt empty. Then I had really bad stomach and abdominal pains and this horrible stomach upset, like my body was upset. Yet I feel better in my head. Less anxious. My sui feelings have actually eased, because this is devastating but I've already been devastated for a long time.

Here is the thing that I've known all along, that I've been running from for so long. I can only write this out now because I'm so detached. My father used to force himself on me. I don't remember it happening, but I remember knowing it was happening, I remember how I felt. I don't know when it progressed from other things to rape. All I know is that it happened a lot when I was 15, and I couldn't stop it. My mum could have stopped it. But she didn't.

I want to believe I'm wrong, I'm just some demented fantasist, because I don't want this to be true. But it's like the episode of Doctor Who when they see the words Bad Wolf scattered all across the universe. This is my bad wolf, and it's been there all along.

I feel like I am disgusting, I am slime, I am nothing but shame and badness. I've felt like that for a very long time. I imagine people reading this post and thinking I'm disgusting, I shouldn't talk about this, I shouldn't post about it and contaminate PC. I'm trying not to freak out and delete this.

I dunno what to say.

In sharing that with us, I cannot adequately express my most heartfelt love and admiration for you and I wish I could offer more comfort than just words here right now.
Fluey x

You're not disgusting, you're not slime, and you SHOULD be talking about this.

Trust 15 year old you, ok? Why would you have told the doctor you were raped, if you weren't?

If you remember how you felt, then you REMEMBER it.

You are NOT shameful. You are NOT bad. You have done NOTHING wrong.



I'm so, so, sorry that you had to live through that. And I am so very sorry that you're having to remember it and relive it right now.

I don't feel contaminated. You are not bad.

Thank you for your kind words.

You have offered more than words. I was about to freak out and delete the whole post, then I saw what you wrote. The kindness, acceptance, and compassion in your words. Stopped the freak out. Thank you.

I do hope you get the help you need for this, Tinyrabbit.

I don't know what help I need. But I have a good T.

I haven't remembered anything about the actual occurrences. I've just stopped pushing the knowledge away. I keep trying to find reasons to disbelieve what I know. I think I have to stop doing that. None of the reasons have ever been convincing. I told myself it couldn't have happened because he's my dad so he wouldn't do that, because my periods would have started earlier than they did if I was being abused, because if I believe myself it must mean I want it to have happened.

Our minds are capable of incredible adaptations to try to shield us from trauma in the moment. Then years later, when those accommodations are stripped away and memory gaps are restored, we begin to see the connections between those primal survival mechanisms and all the psychological dysfunction their deployment has caused as we've grown older but never felt particularly safer or more lovable.

Your openness about these feelings is beautiful--which is the opposite of disgusting.

I keep thinking it's my fault because I didn't get out of the house. I voluntarily spent time there.

I used to stay off school a lot because I moved schools, I was bullied at the new school and I hated it. I had lots of headaches and stomach aches, and I was depressed, tired and sleepy all the time. Somewhere along the line, I developed a sleep disorder, hypersomnia, which can be a secondary symptom of PTSD. It's a lot like narcolepsy. So I was tired all the time and kind of defeated by life. I didn't want to stay at home with my parents but where else was I going to go? Nowhere I could think of at the time, and I pushed away the knowledge that I needed to not be there.

My dad had lost his job and was at home too. During the day. My mum was at work, my brother had left home by then, so nobody else was going to come home, nobody else was going to see, nobody would hear. But I shouldn't have been there, at home with him, letting it happen, surely I should have stayed away or barricaded the door. I don't know why I didn't.

I kept telling my mum I hated my dad. I told her I wanted to live in foster care and she said something dismissive and invalidating like she always did, but then she got this weird look on her face and asked if I had something to tell her. I don't remember if I said anything. She would have ignored and dismissed it if I had.

Recently I tried to talk to her about my childhood and she said: "At least you spent a lot of time out of the house." I thought that was such a pathetic answer as the wrong person was out of the house. I forgot, somehow, that this wasnt true. It's only just dawned on me. I spent a lot of time out of the house from age 16 on. But, age 14-15, I spent loads of time at home, I hardly socialised and I skipped school. I was in the house way more than I was out of it.

But I chose to be there. I didn't do everything I could do stay away. So maybe that means it's at least partly my fault, maybe he thought I didn't mind because I didn't tell someone or stop it, I keep thinking he wouldn't expect to get away with it if he was forcing me, because I know people do expect to get away with that but he's my dad, so he's not supposed to.

I recently read something elsewhere online by a girl whose dad did stuff to her and she kept saying he loved her and he didn't mean to hurt her. I scoffed. I thought: that's blatantly not true. I tell myself I have no such illusions about my parents. Yet I keep insisting MY dad wouldn't do this.

I have a maladaptive defence system that tells me this wouldn't have bothered me, I don't care, I probably enjoyed it. I used to think I was a demented fantasist who wanted to have been abused but hadn't. Now I think I have these faulty beliefs because I needed them to cope. Or I wouldn't have them. Nobody wants to be abused.

When I posted this thread, I never imagined anyone would say anything nice. I am floored by the responses. Thank you.

Try to put the shame and blame where it belongs (difficult I know)....on the criminal/rapist. Are you in therapy? RAINN is an excellent resource I have heard many good things about it. Hugs, Nicole

P.S. Rape is NEVER anyone's fault.....everyone CHOOSES their behavior

nO ONE wants....to be abused. No one would ever choose this.

Oh tinyrabbit You are being so brave to be exploring your memories right now, to be letting them come back. Don't you see just how brave that is? ((Answer: It is very brave!))

It is your father's fault. NONE of it is your fault. Maybe you'll remember why you were at home a lot, maybe you won't. ((If I was to take a guess based on how adult you is reacting, and on how my own low-self-esteem works........ I would throw out a possible guess that you maybe felt too ashamed to leave the house because you felt like it was your fault? Or that you thought you deserved it, or that he wouldn't repeat it? Maybe you were scared about what other people might say or ask, because you weren't sure how you would respond?)) It is so easy for the people in positions of power to convince us that they're right, and that we're wrong.

You said it yourself that you "felt kinda defeated by life". When you feel that way, I can understand how running away from the situation wouldn't have crossed your mind - you wouldn't have known how to and you probably wouldn't think that it was even possible! And really, how else COULD you have ran away? You were a minor. You had no where else to go. It DOES NOT mean that any of it is your fault. IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.

TR, I think the strength of response to your post is what you need to know about how we support and cherish you.

Something horrific happened to you, there is not even 0.00000000000000000001% of this is that is your fault. As has been said, people choose their behaviour and an adult certainly does. You were a child and all children are vulnerable.

You are amazing in talking about this. Never forget that and your strength will help you see the truth here.

Big Fluey love and hugs x

TR-

Please do not blame yourself. It was NOT your fault. you were 100% innocent. It was your parents' fault. I agree w/ the other posters...you are very brave. Treat yourself w/ love and compassion.

No offense intended, but what I've seen over the last few months, on different forums, is a lot of effort being put into finding evidence that this *is* in fact the case, not the other way around. You may well feel overwhelmed right now and not realize it, so I'm pointing it out.

Nonetheless, this does not mean that you want it to have happened or that it didn't. It's difficult to build a narrative in the absence of memories, so I understand this process.

As you say, this is your narrative, you've put pieces together (actually, I think I'm pulling this from another forum). In any case, now, I think there's the task of fitting this part of your narrative into the rest of Tinyrabbit's overall, life-long narrative; I just want to remind you that this is a part of one's life, which of course has affected other things, but it doesn't entirely define who Tinyrabbit is; your current identity certainly encompasses a good deal more than this.

Hopefully, exploring this in therapy will help to process things, and perhaps help you understand and work through present-day issues, so that you can live a fuller, more satisfying life --sometimes there's a greater purpose to these puzzle pieces that can help us in the present day in ways we didn't consider, or think possible. I hope this is the case with you.

I am glad you didn't delete this. I don't think you are bad or disgusting. I read this and felt a lot of sadness for you. I am used to sad, too. You broke the silence. A very couragous act!

Please don't delete it.

Carol

No offence taken. But that wasn't the whole thought process. I posted forum threads asking if this might have happened, questioning the likelihood, examining the evidence, ignoring the fact that I already knew, I just wanted to prove myself wrong.

But, all the while, I was talking myself out of it. Telling myself: my dad wouldn't do that, so he can't have. Telling myself it couldn't have happened because there is a shelf above my bed (which makes no sense), it couldn't have happened because I didn't wear pajama trousers which proves I wasn't being abused and if I was it means it was my fault (which also makes no sense).

There's been this on-going face-off between the part of me that wants me to let myself believe this and deal with it, and the part of me that uses all sorts of faulty, maladaptive and magical thinking to make it not be true. I mean, I told myself it couldn't be true because there is a shelf in my room. That's... clutching at straws. It's a constant tug of war between the part of me that wants to deny it (because I don't want it to be true!) and the part that knows it happened.

I have been going round in these circles for years. Thinking this might be true, then talking myself out of it. I think I wrote about it in my teenage diaries, but I threw them away. Not in the house, in case my parents saw. I threw them in a bin in the street.

You know, I appreciate you saying this, but I think it refers to some kind of end goal and not what I need right now. Right now, I need to be all about this, if I want to be. I need to be sick and wounded and confused and hurt and devastated. Because I've been those things already, for a long time, all by myself, and I need to honour that, if that makes sense.

I've been seeing the bigger picture for too long. I need to wallow. I need to be all about this. I need to be allowed to be. I hope this makes some sense. I spent years trying to put things - lots of things - in perspective and just get on with life, and it's not served me well. I need to be sick and wounded for a bit.

Why? Because I believe I am being ridiculous, pathetic and self-indulgent, because I think it is shameful that I posted about this, because my faulty thinking tells me it's not a big deal and I should just get over it and forget about it. All of which tells me moving on isn't possible right now. I know you don't mean to minimise, it's just it's a trigger point for me, and tells me a lot about how I am feeling.

I've always had to do the moving-on part without the healing and grieving that comes first. So I feel threatened and invalidated when I think of having to be healed, because I'm afraid I'll be robbed of the healing part again. Trigger point, like I said.

Thank you all for your replies. I'm so confused right now because I keep thinking maybe I made it all up, maybe I just got the wrong idea somehow, maybe I imagined it. I keep thinking it's so pathetic and self-indulgent to talk about myself, so shameful, so disgusting.

But the thing is that, since I admitted this properly to myself, consciously, since I posted it on here, since I let myself see this as my reality, I've felt better. Relieved. Not sui any more.

I think I invented this imaginary world in which this never happened, and the sui feelings came from the strain of trying to hold that together. Now I feel so much better it's actually quite ridiculous. I'm sure it won't last.

Tinyrabbit.... I can related soooo much more than I could put into words to this:

"I've always had to do the moving-on part without the healing and grieving that comes first. So I feel threatened and invalidated when I think of having to be healed, because I'm afraid I'll be robbed of the healing part again. Trigger point, like I said."

I understand. I went straight from my own childhood to "must be healed" and I shoved (and still shove) everything aside. Even right now... I can't think of my family life as being nothing but minimally disagreeable. ((Keep in mind, there wasn't phyiscal or sexual abuse in any way, as I was really lucky. Just a lot of emotional neglect and a good handful of verbal abuse)). I've never spent the time feeling hurt, because whenever I feel hurt I throw it away in my attempt to be normal.

I'm just going to remind you (because it needs to be said I feel) that you are none of the negative things you said. You didn't imagine things, you are not ridiculous, you're not pathetic, you're not being self-indulgant, you aren't shameful, you aren't disgusting.

You're scared and you're hurt and you've been brainwashed (really, that's what happens to us when all is said and done) to not trust yourself and to trust in someone who was abusive. And it is ok to have been all of those things. It is not your fault that you got convinced to not trust yourself.



I just... I really understand your post, so much more than I can actually put into words. I wanted you to know that.

tinyrabbit,

I, too, can really relate to your post. All of those dark thoughts and emotions aimed towards yourself. I suffer the same cruel self-deprecating deep beliefs.

Getting yourself to STOP putting yourself down and believe the memories that haunt you is a not an overnight task of course. It takes time. You have taken a very important first step though. You talked about it. Kudos to you! It is such an important first step.

You are not alone. You are not a liar. You are not sick. You are NOT at fault in any way. You were an innocent teenage child. It's very easy for us to look back, as adults, and kick ourselves for giving in. We forget that we were of completely different mindset back then. We forget that we weren't aware of programs out there, designed to help children in bad situations. We forget how we internalized all of these confusing emotions and automatically took the blame upon ourselves ~ we just get to deal with the consequences.

honey if I were in your shoes, I would of blocked it out too. A daddy shouldn't ever do anything like that to his little girl. you didn't want it and was not your fault, you are not slime or badness. you need to talk about it. we are not going to judge you. to think that you wanted this to happen to you. your father is the one who should feel disgusting, like slime and feel ashamed

Oh tiny rabbit, you are not alone. I have a memory of my dad I just can't make sense of. So much happened before age 5 that I can't remember everything but I kind of "know" something was up. Partly because other family members have hinted that I went through something. I feel like I will never know for sure.

You are not disgusting. You deserve care and did back then too.

Thank you all. Sorry, bit short words right now.

But I wanted to say, Panda, emotional neglect IS a big deal and I'm so sorry you had to experience that.

I'm sorry anyone is in a position to relate. Thank you all for your support and kindness.

Thank you tinyrabbit.

I keep thinking it must be my fault because I didn't wear pajama trousers. I can see that's faulty thinking, but I can't shake the belief. I never thought to buy or ask for nice, cosy things to sleep in, because I guess I didn't see bed as a nice cosy place. But I keep thinking that, if I was being abused, I would have worn more layers to protect myself, so the fact I didn't shows I either made this up, or it was my fault, I invited it, because I made it too easy. My brain says: it doesn't matter if this happened, the fact I didn't wear pajama trousers shows I wanted it, shows I invited it. Faulty thinking but it feels like the truth.

I look back and see how my father isolated me from my mother. If he felt I was disrespecting him, he would bully and blame her, and she would plead with me to just let it go, that's just what he's like, don't feel like that. He turned me into a problem that was her fault. She was emotionally neglectful and she enabled him. He thought I should obey him at all times and he couldn't stand it when he felt I was disrespecting him. I think he felt entitled to take what he wanted from me, because I was ungrateful and disrespectful (he never stopped to think maybe I was disrespectful for a reason).

I kept telling people, mainly online friends, that my dad was hurting me, but I couldn't explain how. I didn't really know. People assumed I meant he was beating me. I keep thinking that would have been worse, which is probably more faulty thinking, more psychological defences. But wouldn't that be worse than just having sex with me? Is it really such a big deal or am I making a fuss about nothing?

It's a HUGE deal tinyrabbit. You are NOT making a fuss over nothing.

And you're absolutely correct when you say that the thought about pajama bottoms is faulty thinking. It wouldn't have mattered what you wore, it would have happened anyway because your father is abusive.

Trigger Warning for this part:
I think, when someone gets abused, you get defeated. You would feel like no matter WHAT you did, you wouldn't be able to stop it. That's what the abuser wants you to think, and it's what they convince you TO think. That it's your fault. It's wrong - it's not your fault! But you really couldn't have stopped it. Perhaps with the pajamas tinyrabbit... perhaps it crossed your mind back then. That maybe wearing pajama bottoms would stop it. But then you would have recognized that he would have continued to abuse you anyway - and maybe if you were wearing pajama bottoms, it would have made him either rip them off or make you undress yourself in front of him - which could have maybe made it feel even more humiliating and traumatic? I'm just taking a guess here... but I would guess that you were actually trying to help minimize your level of trauma, and you were also avoiding making him angry by trying to defy him in that way - because goodness knows, anyone would be terrified of what might happen if they actively resisted.

You did not invite it tinyrabbit. You did not invite it.

Thanks, Panda. I think this minimisation is a defence mechanism. If I see it for what it really is, I won't be able to stand thinking about it. Minimising, finding ways to blame myself, means I can think about it a little.

I don't think I consciously gave it any thought. I think I just never wanted anything that was specially designed to be worn in bed, because I didn't see it as a nice, cosy place. I also refused to do anything to make myself look nice, didn't wear make up or anything like that.

Hadn't thought about fear of resisting. I want to say I wasn't afraid of him, but I'm 32 and he doesn't know I smoke as I'm terrified of him, now, as an adult, so I must have been scared as a little girl. I just don't remember. Or I remember events but no feelings - I assumed I just had no feelings until my T made me realise I dissociated from them.

Whatever I wore would simply have been removed. It's just an easy way to blame myself. But I am having huge trouble seeing it as a big deal. I know it is, and the ridiculous thing is I feel enormous shame and self-disgust yet I am still minimising the effect of it, the severity of it. I believe unwanted sex is no big deal to me, I see why it is to other people but not me, it doesn't matter to me. Its easier to see it this way.